Maybe the pressure of having made up his mind to run for senator already had him cracking up. Maybe he was already seeking some form of escape from the crazy world he was about to enter, and somehow, someway, Debra felt like an escape.
The minute he hung up the phone Rhonda buzzed him to let him know that Chad Brothers, an experienced campaign manager, had arrived.
Dismissing thoughts of Debra, he rose as Chad walked into the office, extending his hand to the man who looked more like a professional wrestler than a savvy political expert.
“I hope you called this meeting for the reason I want it to be,” Chad said after he shook Trey’s hand and took a seat in the chair in front of his desk. He leaned forward, his bald head gleaming in the sunshine flowing in through the windows.
“You know I’ve been kicking around the idea of running for the Senate—” Trey began.
“I’d be happy to,” Chad replied before Trey had gotten his entire sentence out of his mouth. “And you know I’m the man who can help get you where you want to go, but if we agree to work together, then we need to get busy right away.”
“I’ve already set up a dinner party that’s taking place a week from next Friday night.” Trey shared the details of the dinner and dance event with the man he trusted to run a fair and honest campaign.
Chad was not only fair and honest, he was also tenacious and brilliant when it came to putting in place a political machine. He was also an old friend that had shown his loyalty to the Winston family for years.
The two men chatted for a little over two hours, talking about plans and tossing out ideas back and forth. Trey found the meeting invigorating and he was in a great mood when he left the office at six for dinner with Cecily at La Palace, a French restaurant where the food was excellent, but equally important was that most of the mover and shakers of Raleigh could be found there on a Friday or Saturday night.
He was meeting Cecily at the restaurant as she was coming from a charity event she’d attended that afternoon for an anti-domestic abuse initiative.
He was eager to tell her about his meeting with Chad. She’d be ecstatic to hear that he’d be working with a man who had the reputation of running an election both effortlessly and with winning results.
Trey had only been inside the restaurant a few minutes when Cecily arrived. As always when she entered a room, men’s heads turned in her direction. Tonight she looked particularly beautiful in a red dress that was just tight enough to showcase her dynamite figure, but not so tight as to be tasteless.
“Darling,” she said as she air-kissed near his cheek. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me long.”
“Not long at all,” he replied. “And our table is ready,” he said as the host nodded at him.
Trey placed a hand in the small of her back as they were led to a table by the front windows of the restaurant. They were coveted tables in the world of power, places to sit and eat where you could see and be seen.
The host took their coats and the minute he departed a waitress appeared with menus and the wine listing. Trey ordered them each a glass of white wine and ordered their meals. As they waited for their food to arrive Trey told her about his meeting with Chad.
“So, it’s really going to happen,” she said, her brown eyes sparkling with not just excitement but that shine of an ambition that resonated deep inside him.
“It’s really going to happen,” he agreed. “The dinner-dance party will be the official kickoff of my campaign. I’ve got to write a rousing speech and then I’ll officially declare my bid for Senate and hope that the money and the support follow.”
“You know it will.” Cecily clapped her hands together and then reached across the table and grasped one of his hands with hers. “I’m so excited for you, so excited for us.” She released his hand and picked up her wineglass.
“You know it’s going to be a crazy ride,” he warned her. “It isn’t just about parties and fun. It’s going to be long days and longer nights, nasty rumors and traveling from city to city, never knowing when or where we’ll see each other again.”
He saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes, there only a moment and then gone. He knew she’d probably expected a proposal, but he just wasn’t ready to take that step right now. He intended to marry only once in his life and he wanted to be absolutely certain when he proposed.
“You know I’m in this for the long run, Trey,” she said softly.
“I know,” he replied somberly. “I just need to get things moving, get plans together in my head. Once we get beyond the dinner party and a press conference to announce my official declaration, we’ll see where things shake out.”
“Of course. I understand,” Cecily replied smoothly as if that quick look of disappointment that he’d seen in her eyes had only been a figment of his imagination. “And whenever you’re not with me, I’ll be working to help achieve our goals.”
Their food was served and for the remainder of the meal Cecily talked about the charity auction she’d attended that afternoon and her plans to immediately begin to form a Women for Winston coalition.
As she talked and they ate, Trey’s mind drifted, first to all the things that would need to be done to achieve his ultimate goals, and secondly to the dinner he would be having the next night at Debra’s.
A business dinner, he reminded himself, a dinner that he’d invited himself to. He should be focused on the beautiful woman across from him, a woman who would add her ambition to his own to see that he reached his goals, followed his duties as his grandfather had wanted for him in public service.
Trey had always been so clear on where he was going and who would be at his side when he arrived there...until that night almost seven weeks ago. That night had somehow thrown him off his personal game, awakened yearnings inside him he hadn’t known he possessed.
He mentally shook himself and focused on Cecily, the woman who was right for him, a woman his grandfather and his mother would have handpicked to be at his side as he traversed through the murky waters of politics.
Chapter 6
That morning the pink mug had been front and center in the cabinet where Debra would have sworn it hadn’t been the morning before. The mystery of the mug’s reappearance had set a discordant tone for the beginning of the day.
Yesterday afternoon Dr. Gina Finnegan had confirmed what Debra already knew, that she was about six and a half weeks pregnant. After Dr. Finnegan had done the blood work and physical, discussed vitamins and handed Debra a pamphlet about pregnancy, Debra had asked about forgetfulness being a part of the condition.
“We’ve coined a term for it here in the clinic,” Dr. Finnegan had said with a laugh. “Pregnesia...the condition of absentmindedness that comes with all the hormonal changes due to pregnancy. Don’t worry, most of my patients tell me it goes away by the second trimester along with any morning sickness you might be suffering.”
Dr. Finnegan had set her due date around the third week of August. A summer baby, Debra had thought. It would probably be a long, uncomfortable July but it would be worth it. By summer’s end she’d have a precious bundle of joy to love.
As she sliced potatoes for a cheesy scalloped dish to go with the pork chops, she tried not to think about the evening ahead, an evening where she’d be sharing dinner, sharing private time and conversation with Trey.
It was a cold gray blustery day and she’d built a fire in the fireplace despite her concern that it might look too romantic. There was nothing she liked better than a roaring fire on a wintry day while she worked in the kitchen and she’d decided she didn’t care what he thought, it was just a good day for a fire.
It was just before five and both the potatoes and the pork chops would take about an hour to cook. The table was already set for two with her good black-and-red dinnerware and she had a salad made and in the r
efrigerator.
The smoky bourbon barbecue sauce smelled like heaven and half of it was in a saucepan ready to be reheated and poured over the chops when they were finished cooking. The other half of the sauce was marinating the meat.
All she had to do was put the two baking dishes into the oven and then take a shower and dress for Trey’s arrival at six. She had all the paperwork ready for him to look at to make the final decisions on the setup of the ballroom and that’s what the meeting was all about.
It had been his idea to do it over dinner. It was strictly a business dinner, she reminded herself over and over again throughout the day.
Once they went over those last final details there would be no reason for her to meet with him again until possibly the night before the event.
She would be there the night of the dinner, not as a guest, but she’d arrive at the hotel at least an hour or so before things got started to make certain that everything had been handled properly, that the evening was set perfectly for Trey’s special night.
Fifteen minutes later she stood beneath a warm spray of water, far too eager for the night to come. It was wrong of her to want to see Trey, to see him seated at her table across from her. It was wrong of her to want to hear his deep, smooth voice talking just to her. More than anything it was wrong on every level for her to want him again.
He belonged to Cecily. They were so right together. Debra might carry his baby, but nobody would ever know that. She would never screw up his dreams by telling him about her condition because she knew he was the kind of man who would have to do something about it and that something would destroy all of the goals he had for himself.
He was a Winston, bred for business and politics. He deserved to have winners surrounding him. He deserved to have a winner as a wife and that woman was Cecily. He definitely didn’t need a mousy, efficient woman like Debra in his life.
By the time she dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved navy fleece shirt, she felt as if she had all of her emotions under control. They would enjoy a good meal, discuss business and then he would leave.
Once the dinner party at the Regent was finished, she would see him only rarely when he came to visit his mother. Even then it was possible they wouldn’t run into each other often at all.
Her emotions remained cool and calm until six o’clock when her doorbell rang. She answered and with a slightly nervous smile invited him in. She took his coat and hung it in her foyer closet, noting that he had dressed casual, as well.
Trey Winston wore a suit like he’d been born in one, but he looked equally as hot in a pair of slightly worn, tight blue jeans and a navy-and-white-striped sweater that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders.
“Something smells delicious,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen where she gestured him to a chair at the table.
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” she replied. As with the last time he’d been sitting in her kitchen, she felt as if the walls closed in and got smaller with his very presence in the room. He emanated such energy, commanded all the space around him.
She was grateful she’d done most of the work ahead of time because she suddenly felt clumsy.
“Let me help,” he said, and jumped out of his chair as she opened the oven door to take the baking dishes out of the oven.
“Okay, knock yourself out,” she replied and handed him two pot holders. She’d nearly tripped just carrying the salad from the refrigerator to the table. “You can just set the pork and potatoes on top of the hot pads here.” She pointed to the two awaiting pads on the counter.
She stepped back and watched as he maneuvered the two large dishes onto the counter next to the oven. He smelled so good and as he moved his sweater pulled tightly across his broad shoulders. She averted her gaze, not wanting to care about the way he looked or remember that scent that he’d worn when they’d hooked up on that fateful night.
He pulled the tin foil off the dishes and sighed in obvious delight. “This all looks amazing.”
“Wait for it,” she said as she pulled the saucepan of bubbling sauce from the stovetop and poured the last of it over the pork chops. “There’s enough bourbon in here I’m not sure we’ll need before-dinner drinks,” she said jokingly. “We’ll be half-snookered by the time we finish eating the sauce.” She flushed as she remembered that half-snookered was what had put her in the condition she was in.
“Why don’t we just bring our plates over here and dig in straight from the baking pans?” he suggested. “No need to be formal on my account.”
“Okay,” she agreed, grateful that she didn’t have to attempt to take the two hot dishes to the center of the table. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.
“Other than cooking, did you have a busy day or were you able to rest up a little on your day off?” he asked as he grabbed the two red-and-black-patterned plates from the table and rejoined her by the stove.
“Actually, I managed to sleep a little later than usual and then I cleaned a bit. I even managed to work in a little reading so it was a fairly restful day.”
She waited for him to snag one of the thick pork chops along with a large serving of the cheesy potatoes. “What about you? Busy day?” she asked.
“Not too bad at all. I feel like today was the calm before the storm. Chad is already busy working to fill every minute of my schedule.”
She smiled. “But everyone in town knows he turns out winners.” Chad was a household name in the city of Raleigh among the political crowd.
Trey carried his plate back to the table while she served herself, eternally grateful that she didn’t drop a chop on the floor or dribble cheese potatoes down the front of her.
Once they were both seated and Debra took out the salad and dinner rolls, they both dug in. “These pork chops are to die for,” he exclaimed after his first bite.
She smiled with pleasure. “Thanks, I was hoping they would come out tasty.”
“Do you generally invite people over to share in your Sunday culinary delights?”
“Barry used to occasionally join me but since we broke up, never. I cook for myself because I enjoy it and it’s the one hobby I have time for one day a week.”
“Between your work for my mom and now for me, we’ve been keeping you too busy.”
“Not at all,” she protested. “I love my work. I adore your mother and I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m doing what I always wanted to do.” Except for being a mom, she thought. That would soon be added to the things she loved.
With the thought of motherhood, the sight of Trey so masculine and handsome across from her and with a flash of sudden visions of their hot and wild night together all swirling around in her mind, she attempted to grab a roll from the center of the table and bring it to her plate, but nearly dropped it to the floor.
“That was a close one,” he said with a grin.
She flushed. “Lately I seem to be suffering episodes of extreme clumsiness. So if I happen to flip a chunk of lettuce or a cherry tomato across the table at you or drop a roll in your lap, please don’t take it personally.”
“Will do,” he said with a cheerful smile.
“So, are you all geared up to work with Chad? I’ve heard he’s a rough taskmaster.”
He laughed and shook his head ruefully. “I’m ready for whatever Chad brings. He has some great ideas and I’m excited to have him on my team.”
All that was important to Debra was that she keep her secret. What was important was that Trey maintain his pristine reputation because for him the sky was the limit.
She had to keep her pregnancy as far away from Trey and his campaign as possible. She knew what his adversaries would do to him if they knew he’d slept with his mother’s assistant and now that assistant was pregnant.
They would massacre h
im.
* * *
Dinner conversation remained light and pleasant and the meal was better than any Trey had ever enjoyed in a five-star restaurant.
Afterward he helped her clear the table and she suggested they drink her special mint hot cocoa in the living room where she had all the paperwork ready for him to make some final decisions about the ballroom decor.
As they sat side by side on the sofa with the paperwork on the coffee table in front of them, he realized he wasn’t ready yet to talk business. What he wanted to talk about was her.
“You know, you’ve worked for my mother for years and yet I realized the other day that I know so little about you and about how you came to work for Mom. Did you grow up here? Are your parents still alive? I’ve never heard you mention anything about family.”
She leaned back against the black sofa, the dark background making her hair look lighter and her large eyes more green than ever. “Yes, I was born and raised right here in Raleigh. My father is alive, although I’ve only spoken to him once in my entire life.” Her eyes darkened slightly.
He leaned toward her, sensing pain trapped someplace deep inside her. “And why is that?”
Her beautiful eyes darkened even more and a crease danced across her brow. “My father is a highly successful businessman who is married and has two children who are just a couple of years older than me. My mother was his mistress for about six months before she got pregnant. He tried to pay her off to have an abortion, but I think my mother thought that I’d be worth more if I was alive, so she had me and she and my father came to an understanding.”
“An understanding?” Trey fought his desire to move closer to her, to take one of her hands in his and offer her some sort of support. While her story was not completely uncommon, especially in the world of politics and successful, egomaniacal businessmen, that didn’t make it any less ugly.
She gave a curt nod. “My father would financially support us as long as my mother and I never mentioned his name, never went public and ruined not only his image, but also his happy marriage. For me, my father was a once-a-month check in the mail that kept a roof over our heads and food on the table.”
HER SECRET, HIS DUTY Page 8